Monster Problems
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About this ebook
"Magnificent."—Kirkus Reviews, STARRED Review on Time Villains
Story Thieves meets Escape from Mr. Lemoncello's Library in the second book of this wacky, hilarious, and fast-paced middle-grade series. Can Javi and his friends stop Count Dracula from taking over the school?
With Blackbeard banished from their present time, life has gone somewhat back to normal for Javi, his sister Brady, and his best friend Wiki. And Javi can now focus on his favorite thing in the world: crafting extreme sandwiches. Except their beloved Principal Gale has to make an unexpected trip back to Oz, leaving the excessively strict and downright terrifying Ms. Vlad in charge.
With the school all kinds of doom and gloom the trio is desperate for some change. Luckily that arrives in the form of their new Vice Principal, Mr. Dragon. Mr. D is immediately adored by the students, especially Brady, and Javi's glad he wasn't forced to summon any historical or fictional folks from his magical table to get the school back on track.
Except something seems a little off about Mr. Dragon, and soon it's clear he isn't who he says he is. With Brady under his spell he's able to summon his monster crew to take over the town, and eventually the world. Javi's going to have to get his own team if he's going to stop their evil vice principal before it's too late.
Praise for Time Villains:
"Piñeiro scores with this tale of friendship, magic, and adventure... Magnificent."—Kirkus Reviews, STARRED Review
"It's got heart, it's got thrills, it's got pirates! You won't be able to put down this action-packed, relentlessly funny adventure."—Sarah Mlynowski, author of the New York Times bestselling Whatever After series
"A magical table that pulls in famous people from history and fiction? Is this the greatest idea for a book ever? Yes. Yes it is. Come join the best dinner party in history (and books), full of pirates, sandwiches and history's greatest figures!"—James Riley, New York Times bestselling author of The Story Thieves series
Victor Piñeiro
Victor Piñeiro heads up content and social media at an ad agency where he’s run @YouTube, some of @Google and launched @Skittles, creating its award-winning zany voice. He’s also designed games and toys for Hasbro, written/produced a popular documentary on virtual worlds and taught third graders. He is the author of the Time Villains series.
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Monster Problems - Victor Piñeiro
1
I woke up Sunday night at 3:17 a.m. with a flying monkey slapping my face.
It hadn’t been a great night. My sister, Brady, needed a sparring partner for her Brazilian jujitsu class, then my best friend Wiki needed someone to quiz him on quantum physics for fun. My body was mashed and my brain was mush. All I’d wanted that night was a twenty-course omakase sushi dinner and eight glorious hours of sleep. Instead I got burnt meat loaf and insomnia.
And an extremely unwelcome visitor. He must’ve been extra quiet, because I hadn’t heard the window open or the creepy sound of wings flapping next to me. I was in the middle of pastrami dreams when I opened an eye and saw a silhouette standing on my chest. An enormous, hairy monkey silhouette. With epic wings. Slapping me with one hand and covering my mouth with the other.
MMMMFFFFHHHMMNNN!
I screamed through his hand, which I hope he correctly translated to, Couldn’t you have knocked on the front door like a regular monkey? What’s wrong with you? Are you too good for front doors?
He must have understood some of it, because he gave me the biggest monkey grin and then motioned to the door.
I followed him downstairs hoping and praying that he didn’t wake up my parents. (Oh hey Mom, meet my pal Billy. Hairy with wings? Nah, he just hit puberty early.
) He led me to the front door and motioned for me to open it. Given the insanity of the situation, I was half expecting a beatboxing gorilla.
Principal Gale? She was drenched and had a desperate look in her eyes.
Javi. Sorry for the rude awakening. I need a favor. Can I come in?
Five minutes later, after she had a cup of tea and apologized for the slappity-slap wake-up call, she laid it on me.
Javi, I need to go home right now.
Maybe it was because it was the middle of the night, but I shook my head, confused. Um, did you forget where you live? I guess I can draw you a map. It’s not super far from here. Were you sleepwalking?
She shook her head. No, Javi. Not my house. My home.
Then it hit me. Oz. She wanted me to send her back to Oz. And yeah, believe it or not, my principal is Dorothy Gale and that was actually something I could do.
We made our way to the basement door, down the creaky stairs and to the cage. Under the stairway, hidden behind some old newspapers, was what looked like a super-fancy bird cage. The bars were thick and there wasn’t a visible keyhole because—surprise!—it’s literally impossible to open without the magic word. The last time we tried to open it, we were attacked by the same giant monkey that had just woken me up, plus fourteen of his pals. Good thing we were friends now.
Here you go, Principal Gale,
I whispered as I handed it to her. She opened her mouth to say the magic word, then looked at me for a second. The bell was in there—the one that lets us summon anyone from history or fiction like it’s no big deal. She’d wrapped it tightly in cloth so that it was impossible to ring and had me change the cage’s password every month. (After we kinda sorta summoned Blackbeard a few months ago, she wanted to make sure the bell didn’t fall into the wrong hands.) She took one last serious look into my eyes and I smiled nervously. She hated my passwords.
Chewy Chili Cheeseburger.
Can you please stop letting Javi pick the password, Principal Gale?
My sister was coming down the stairs. They get worse every month.
Brady!
I yelled. You do realize it’s three in the morning, right?
You do realize that there’s a flying monkey in my room playing with my dolls, right?
Touché. Good morning, Brady.
I’m sorry about that,
Gale said as she pulled the bell out of the cage and unwrapped it. If this wasn’t a complete emergency, I wouldn’t be here at this time of night.
Brady nodded. Do you miss the Cowardly Lion or something?
She smiled a teensy bit before her face got serious again. No, there’s trouble at home, and I need you to send me back. Let’s go.
We dashed up the stairs and into our dining room and there was Andy, purring loudly. Andy’s not our cat, he’s our table. It’s a long story.
Andy, it’s been too long. I hope you’re well. I really need to go home again. Not Kansas. My other home.
Gale sat down at the head of the table and handed me the bell.
I imagine it will take me exactly a month to take care of business at home,
she said to Brady and me. I need you to summon me again exactly one month from today. October 13. But not a day before. And Javi, Brady—allow absolutely no one to use Andy while I’m away. Promise me that.
We nodded and lifted up the bell, ready to ring it.
Wait!
Brady said. What about school?
I made last-minute preparations with key members of the faculty. They’ll make sure the school is running smoothly while I’m away.
I raised my hand. Who’s going to be the new principal while you’re gone?
Gale smiled. I left you in good hands.
I rang the bell, there was a loud poof, and Principal Gale disappeared. Everything got quiet for a second. Then Brady and I heard a noise and slowly turned to the kitchen. The flying monkey was sitting in our refrigerator scarfing down the meat loaf.
2
Diespertate niñitos!
I shot awake to blaring music downstairs. It was almost as bad as the monkey slaps. Time for school!
Mami was making all sorts of noise in the kitchen. I rolled out of bed with a thousand bags under each eye and moped my way down to the dining room, tossing myself into a chair and promptly falling half-asleep again. Then Mami jumped out from the kitchen and started slapping the table with her palms to the rhythm of the way-too-loud salsa music like it was a conga drum.
Levantate, Javi! It’s a sunny day outside. Dame una sonrisa!
Meet Mami. She’s like a five-foot-three battery that’s always charged to the point of exploding. You know that old nursery rhyme, Girls are full of sugar and spice and everything nice
? Mami’s full of professional-grade fireworks, marching-band cymbals, and heavy-metal drum solos. I swear, her blood is caffeine.
Dónde está Brady? Brady! Up up up! Vamossssss!
She danced her way up the stairs, belting out whatever song was on, and knocked on her door to the beat of the music. It’s like the whole house was her drum. Brady’s even less of a morning person than I am, and I could hear her grunty moan from where I was sitting. If I don’t keep the rhythm going, you don’t get to school on time. Come on! Let’s go!
Two minutes later Brady plunked down a bowl, dumped cereal into it and munched aggressively with the most gravelly look imaginable. The cereal slowly woke her up, and her devil glare softened into a mean-ish stare, which meant I could ask her questions without being turned to stone.
When did Señor Hairywings finally leave?
Sunrise,
she groaned. After we perfected our dance routine. He’s a talented monkey.
I whistled long and low. Yikes. So who do you think the new principal’s going to be?
She munched in silence for a few seconds. Ms. Kahlo? Ms. Sherry-Zadi? I can’t think of another teacher who isn’t out to lunch.
I’ve got my fingers crossed for Ahab. Good old Mr. Scrimshaw would have us all wearing sailor outfits and wrestling whales in days.
We laughed so hard that she spit out cereal.
Whoa! Caramba. Which one of you destroyed the fridge?
Mami had the fridge door open and was looking inside like she was staring at a crime scene.
That’s our cue,
I whispered, and Brady and I grabbed our backpacks and fled. As I shut the door I yelled, A flying monkey hung out with us last night, and he got pretty hungry. He doesn’t have great manners!
I’ve learned that the best way to handle questions like that are with the truth, because no one will ever believe it.
The flying monkeys showed up last night?
Wiki said as he walked across our lawn. Wiki’s my best friend and basically a brain with feet. If scientists ever tried to measure his smarts by attaching his head to a computer, the computer would explode.
It’s a long story,
Brady said. Let’s get some distance from our house first, though. Before Mami finds out what the monkey did to the garage.
Brady, Wiki and I fast-walked up the trail next to our house until we saw the ginormous castle that happened to be our school.
So then she says, ‘I’m leaving you in good hands,’ and—poof!—she’s gone. Bye-bye principal.
Brady was telling the whole story excitedly. I added in the part about the monkey slaps.
This is troubling. Deeply troubling.
Wiki rubbed his chin. Pretty much everything that didn’t involve winning a lottery or petting puppies was deeply troubling to Wiki. The guy loved being deeply troubled. There are no great candidates for principal that I can think of. No other natural leaders like Gale. No one to save us if something goes wrong. Oh.
He stopped in his tracks. Did she say anything about using Andy?
Brady shrugged. He’s off limits to everyone else. She made us swear it. Oh, do you know what Javi’s password was this month?
I try not to––
Chewy chili cheeseburger!
I said, hoping for the teensiest smile.
Wiki rolled his eyes. Then we walked in silence for a little bit, and I wondered if Wiki was thinking about Gale, Andy, or the best cheese for a chili cheeseburger. (Alpine Lace Swiss, for the record.)
A school without a leader. Without a protector. And that table sitting in your dining room, ready to ruin our lives again. Just when I thought the school year might be off to a good start.
Wiki was in pure fret mode now. You could see the weight of the world push down onto his shoulders.
Hey, one thing at a time,
I said, trying to defuse his stress like I always did. Let’s just see who she picked as principal. Maybe we’re all forgetting one amazing teacher. Maybe we’ll love the new principal so much we’ll want them to stay in charge.
Wiki didn’t seem convinced.
We split ways in the lobby, Wiki heading to the bathroom while Brady followed me to my locker to grab the fancy calculator we shared. (Not like she needs it, but she likes the oohs and ahhs it gets from her friends, and there’s no way Mami’s buying us two of them.)
As we walked by the gym we passed all the trophy cases with little gold people kicking soccer balls and hitting baseballs on tiny pedestals. Why oh why did I take this route to my locker? This was always a guaranteed day-ruiner, and today was a day that had to be good.
I stopped right before we passed the last shelf, which had the one trophy that had nothing to do with sports or gym. On a big blue-and-white pillar stood a gold-wrapped sandwich in all its delectable glory. Finistere Sandwich-Making Champion: Reggie Donaldson. It stung every time I read that stupid name on that stupid trophy.
An open-faced sandwich,
I growled. The nerve. I ask you, how can you win a sandwich-making contest with an open-faced sandwich? That’s not even a sandwich! The entire point of a sandwich is that it’s fillings sandwiched between something else. Plus, you’re supposed to be able to eat it without a fork and knife. Reggie literally had little forks next to his open-faced sandwich for judges to try. How is that even a sandwich? That’s like winning a pizza contest with a calzone!
Losing sucks. Losing a contest you were sure you’d win sucks even more. But losing a contest that the faculty created for you as thanks for saving their school? That’s the worst kind of suck. Yeah, after I’d saved Finistere from pirates with Brady and Wiki, the teachers granted us each one favor. Mine was that we have an annual sandwich-making competition, since there was a clear lack of food-related contests at our school, and my goal in life is being the universe’s premier chef. Well, they obliged and did a pretty great job of making the contest a big deal. But when it finally happened, and I unveiled my Michelin-starred-restaurant-worthy pork belly tripleta sandwich (an extravagant twist on a Puerto Rican classic), the judges put it in third place. Third. Place. Only Ms. Vlad gave it a perfect score, and I’m pretty sure vampires can’t eat, so she was faking it.
So now I’m not only a C+ student and a C+ athlete, I’m also a C+ chef. Which means I’m C+ at life. Javi Santiago: the C+ human. I can’t decide if that makes me incredibly angry or overwhelmingly sad. It probably means I’ll end up jobless and friendless and living in my parents’ basement until my existence is just a legend they tell kids on my block to